AT THE THEATRE.
Lord Earlshope and Lady Drum had been carelessly chatting at the
window when the Whaup and Coquette drew near. They saw them walking
up the slopes of the Park to the house, and Earlshope said--
"What a handsome fellow Tom Cassilis has grown! I have never seen
any young fellow alter so rapidly."
"Has he not?" said Lady Drum, with a little touch of pride--for she
fancied that both these young people somehow belonged to her. "I
should like to see them married."
It is possible that this artless confession on the part of the old
lady was put out as a feeler. She liked Tom Cassilis well enough;
but, being mortal and a woman, she must have wondered sometimes
whether Coquette might not wed a lord--especially a lord who had
frequently betrayed his admiration for her. But, when she said this,
Earlshope betrayed no surprise. He merely said--
"They will make a handsome pair; and many a man will envy young
Cassilis his good fortune."
Lady Drum was a trifle disappointed. Was there no mystery at all,
then, connected with those romantic episodes in the Highlands? Lord
Earlshope talked of her protégée as if she were merely some ordinary
country girl who was about to marry and become the mistress of a
household; whereas all the men she had heard talk of Coquette spoke
of her as something rare and wonderful. Lady Drum was almost sorry
that she had asked him to join them at the theatre that evening; but
she reflected that, if Lord Earlshope were so indifferent, the
peaceful progress of the two cousins towards marriage was rendered
all the more secure. She only thought that Coquette would have made
a beautiful and charming hostess to preside over the hospitalities of
Earlshope.
"Ho, ho!" said Lady Drum, when Coquette came down to dinner dressed
for the theatre. "We hae made our toilette something just quite
extraordinary. Mr. Thomas is a fortunate lad to hae so much done for
him."
"I do not dress for him, or for any one," said Coquette, with an air
of calm magnificence.
This going to the theatre was quite an excitement for Coquette, who
had not visited any such place of amusement since she left France.
Lady Drum warned her not to say anything about it in her letters to
Airlie, or the chances were that the Minister would order her recall
from Glasgow at once.
"And my cousin," said Coquette, "has he never been to any theatre?"
"That is more than I can say," remarked Lady Drum, with a smile.
When at length they drove down to the big building, and went up the
broad staircase, and got into the corridor, there was an odour of
escaped gas and a confused sound of music which quite delighted
Coquette--it was so like the odour and the sound prevalent in the
theatres she had visited long ago in France. And when they got into
the box, which was the biggest in the theatre, they found the Whaup
already there, with two bouquets awaiting Lady Drum and Coquette.
Lady Drum, naturally taking the place of honour, was perhaps a little
glad to screen herself in her corner by the curtains; but Coquette,
with the calm air of a princess, and with her brilliant toilette
getting a new splendour from the gleaming lights of the house, took
her seat, and lifted her bouquet, and made the Whaup a pretty speech
of thanks which filled his heart with pleasure; then she turned her
attention to the stage.
"Shall I ever be able," said the Whaup to himself, as he looked
wistfully at her, "to give her pretty dresses like that, and buy her
pearls for her neck and her hair, and take her to all the amusements?"
The young gentleman was rather proud; and would not even acknowledge
to himself that Coquette could buy pearls for herself and pay for far
more amusements than she cared to see.
The performances need not be described in detail. They consisted, in
the first place, of a romantic drama of the good old kind, in which a
lot of very pronounced characters--whose virtues and vices they took
every opportunity of revealing to the audience--did impossible things
in impossible places and talked a language unfamiliar to any nation
at present inhabiting the earth. This piece was to be followed by a
burlesque, for which Sir Peter professed himself to be impatient.
"For," said he, "there is in every burlesque a young lady with a
saucy face and pretty ankles, with whom you can fall in love for an
hour or two with impunity. And I am anxious for her appearance;
because Miss Coquette has quite deserted me, and I am left out in the
cold."
The truth is, Coquette had discovered in her cousin a quite
astonishing familiarity with this theatre. He was acquainted with
all its arrangements, and seemed to know the name of everybody in
connection with it. Now, how had he gained this knowledge?
"Oh, I do see that the life of the students is not all study,"
Coquette remarked, with a gracious sarcasm; "you do sometimes find
them singing 'Come lasses and lads,' and they do waste time with
tobacco and laughing, and even know a good deal about the actresses
of the theatre. Why was none of that in your letters to Airlie?"
"Well, I'll tell you the truth, Coquette," said the Whaup, with a
laugh and a blush that became his handsome face well, "I dared not
tell anybody at Airlie I went to the theatre; nor do I think I should
have gone in any case but for a notion I had that, somehow or other,
you must like the theatre. You never told me that, you know, but I
guessed it from--from--from--"
"From my manner, or my talk? You do think me like an actress, then?"
"No, it is not that at all," said the Whaup. "You are too sincere
and simple in your ways. But somehow I thought that, with your
having been brought up in the south, and accustomed to a southern
liking for enjoyment and artistic things, and with your sympathy for
fine colours, and for music, and all that--why, I thought, Coquette,
you would be sure to like the theatre; and so, do you know, I used to
come here very often--not here, of course, but away up there to that
dark gallery--and I used to sit and think what the theatre would be
like when Coquette came to see it."
He spoke quite shyly; for, indeed, he half fancied she might laugh at
those romantic dreamings of his when he was far away from her in the
big city; but when he ventured to steal a glance at her face, lo! the
soft dark eyes were quite moist. And she pretended to look down into
the circle of flowers he had given her, and said in a low voice--
"You have been thinking of me very much when I was down in Airlie,
and you here by yourself. I do not deserve it--but I will show my
gratitude to you some day."
"Why, Coquette," he said, "you need not thank me for it. Only to
think of you was a pleasure to me--the only pleasure I had all that
long winter time."
Had Lady Drum heard the whispered little sentences which passed
between these two young folks, she might, perhaps, have thought that
they expressed more genuine emotion than the bursts of rhetoric in
which, on the stage, the lucky lover was declaring his passion for
the plump and middle-aged heroine. But they took care she should
hear nothing of it.
Presently in came Lord Earlshope with his crush-hat under his arm;
and he, also, had brought two bouquets. The Whaup noticed, with a
passing twinge of mortification, that these were far finer and more
delicate flowers than he had been able to buy, and he expected to see
his own poor gifts immediately laid aside. But he did not know
Coquette. She thanked Lord Earlshope very graciously for the
flowers, and said how fortunate it was he had brought them.
"For I always do like to throw a bouquet to the actress after her
long evening's work, yet I was becoming sorry to give her the flowers
that my cousin did bring me. But you have brought one for her, too,
if I may give it to her?"
"Why, of course," said Earlshope, who probably did not put such value
on a handful of flowers as did the Whaup: "and when you wish to give
it her, let me pitch it on the stage, or you will probably hit one of
the men in the orchestra."
"But you must keep them for the young lady of the burlesque," said
Sir Peter; "she is always better-looking than the heroine of the
drama, isn't she, isn't she? Then you have a greater opportunity of
judging."
"Why?" said Lady Drum, with a look of such severity as effectually to
prevent her husband answering--instead, he turned away and gaily
hummed something about
"Ecoutez la leçon
Qui vous fait Henriette."
But there was another woman in the theatre who had attracted their
attention before Lord Earlshope had arrived. She was seated in the
corner of the box opposite; and, as a rule, was hidden behind the
curtain. When they did get a glimpse of her, her manner and
appearance were so singular as to attract a good deal of attention.
She was of middle height, stout, with rather a florid face,
coal-black hair, and a wild, uncertain look, which was seldom fixed
on any object for two minutes together. Oddly enough, she stared
over at Coquette in rather a peculiar way; until that young lady
studiously kept her eyes on the stage, and did not again glance
towards the opposite box.
"Singular-looking woman, isn't she?" said Sir Peter. "Opium, eh? eh?
Is that opium that makes her eyes so wild? She drinks, I swear, and
seems mad with drink, eh? eh? What do you say, Cassilis?"
"I wish you would not talk of that person," said Lady Drum; and then
the conversation dropped.
About a quarter of an hour after Lord Earlshope had come into the
theatre, this woman apparently retired from her corner behind the
curtain; then she walked forward from the back of the box to the
front of it; and there stood at full length, looking over, with an
odd expression of amusement on her face, at the group in front of
Lady Drum's box. The movement was noticed by the whole theatre; and
certainly it was noticed by Lord Earlshope; for, during one second,
his eyes seemed to be fixed on this woman; and then, still regarding
her, he retreated a step or two from the front of the box, with his
face becoming deadly white.
"What is the matter?" said Lady Drum, anxiously--for he had been
speaking to her--"you have become very pale--are you ill?"
"Lady Drum, I wish to speak with you privately for a moment," he
said, quite calmly, but with a singular constraint of manner that
somewhat alarmed her.
She rose at once, and followed him into the corridor outside. There
he stood, apparently quite composed and yet still very pale.
"Would you mind taking Miss Cassilis home at once?" he said.
"Take her home! Why?"
"I cannot tell you why," he said, with some show of anxiety and
impatience. "I cannot tell you why; but I wish, Lady Drum, you
would. I beg you--I entreat you to take her away instantly!"
"But why?" said the old lady, who was at once perplexed and alarmed.
"You saw that woman opposite," said Lord Earlshope, rather abandoning
the calmness of his demeanour. "She will come round here
presently--I know she will--she will go into the box--she will insult
Miss Cassilis: for Heaven's sake, Lady Drum, get her out of the way
of that woman!"
"Bless me!" said Lady Drum, elevating her eyebrows, "are we a' to be
frightened out o' our wits by a mad woman, and three men wi' us? And
if there was no one wi' us," she added, drawing herself up, "I am not
afraid of the girl being insulted if she is under my care; and what
for should any woman, mad as she may be, fasten upon us? My certes!
I will see that she does not come near the girl, or my name is not
Margaret Ainslie!"
For a moment or two Lord Earlshope stood irresolute, with
mortification and dismay plainly evident on his pale features; then
he said, suddenly--
"I must tell you at once, Lady Drum. I have many a time determined
to do so--but put it off until now--when I can be silent no longer.
That woman in the theatre just now, a woman soddened and mad with
brandy--is my wife--at least, she was my wife some years ago.
Goodness knows, I have no reason to be afraid of her but one--it is
for the sake of Miss Cassilis I beg of you, Lady Drum--to take her
away--out of her reach--she is a woman of outrageous passions--a
scene in a public place will have all the excitement of a new sort of
drunkenness for her----"
To all these incoherent ejaculations, Lady Drum only replied--
"Your wife!"
"This is not a time to blame me for anything," he said, hurriedly.
"I cannot give you any explanations just now. You don't know why I
should have concealed my marriage with this horrible woman--but you
will not blame me when you hear. All I want is to secure Miss
Cassilis' safety."
"That," said Lady Drum, with firmness, "is secure enough in my
keeping. You need not be afraid, Lord Earlshope--she is quite secure
where she is."
"You mean to keep her in the theatre?"
"Most certainly."
"Then I will go. If I leave, that woman's mood may change; but I see
from her laughing to herself that she means mischief. I cannot
charge my own wife at the police-court."
He left the theatre there and then. Lady Drum returned to the box,
and made some sort of apology for his departure. But she did not see
much of what was going on upon the stage; for her thoughts were busy
with many strange things that she now recollected as having been
connected with Lord Earlshope; and sometimes she turned from
Coquette's face to glance at the box opposite. Coquette was
thoroughly enjoying the piece; the woman in the opposite box remained
hidden, and was apparently alone.